


When You Leave, Where Do You Go?

by mailroomorder



Series: The Chronicles of Kid Chronic [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blangst, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Molestation, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape of a Minor, Rape/Non-con Elements, Statutory Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:57:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1931061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mailroomorder/pseuds/mailroomorder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the ages of 6-16, Blaine is consistently raped by his baseball coach Paul--a surrogate uncle of his. Blaine meets Paul when he is 6 and his parents sign him up for tee ball. Paul takes an instant liking to Blaine and easily integrates himself into the Andersons' lives, quickly becoming a mentor to Blaine and a close friend of his parents.</p><p>Part Two in Kid Chronicle Verse:</p><p>After coming home, Blaine is put in therapy. He spends the summer trying to convince everyone--especially himself--that he's all right. This follows thirteen year old Blaine's summer after running away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Leave, Where Do You Go?

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains the molestation of a minor. While the first chapter didn't contain any graphic details, this update is a bit more explicit and does more than just allude to rape. PLEASE CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.
> 
> If you have any questions or comments or concerns, my [askbox](http://mailroomorder.tumblr.com/ask) is always open and anonymous questions are always allowed. 
> 
> Rebloggable on [Tumblr](http://mailroomorder.tumblr.com/post/91359955130/when-you-leave-where-do-you-go)

                His parents shove him in therapy.

                It doesn’t really work, because Blaine’s biggest secret is locked up so tight that no sleight of hand tricks can get him to reveal anything. But he’s sent to therapy anyway. Not that he really minds it much. He and John normally just sit there playing cards or board games and talking about why Blaine felt the need to run away from home.

                “I just wanted a break,” Blaine says one day.

                “A break from what?” John asks, picking up a card and moving his _Sorry!_ piece back four spaces.

                Blaine just shrugs and picks up a card of his own.

                He doesn’t talk the rest of the session about anything important. John prods him a few times, hoping to get more information out, but when he sees it’s a total bust he moves on to talking about harmless things, like Blaine’s favorite movie and if he likes sports.

                “I like to draw,” Blaine says, not making eye contact. He almost never makes eye contact. If he has to look John in the face then he tends to stare at his eyebrows, or at the wall right behind his left shoulder.

                “Anything in particular?” John asks casually.

                Blaine shrugs as he moves his red piece into the Safety Zone.

                He doesn’t always talk though. Only on good days does he talk, even if it’s not about anything important.

                On the days his parents can’t take him to therapy, Paul takes him. They’ll walk in the door together, with Paul’s hand like an anchor steady on his shoulder. He’ll squeeze it and apply pressure, like an act of solidarity, when they sit down together in the waiting room.

                When it’s Blaine’s turn he’ll get up and Paul will stare at him meaningfully and offer him a short smile. He’ll pat Blaine on the back, and it feels like a warning. One time in the waiting room he pinched Blaine. It didn’t hurt or bruise. But it left a mark on Blaine’s memory.

                On days when Paul takes him, Blaine stares out the window of the office and into the parking lot, and he imagines all the different scenarios in which he could run away again.

                He’ll build it up in his head so much, not even listening to what John says as he squeezes his fingers and scratches his head. He’ll come up with a plan so detailed and fool proofed that he thinks he can actually get away with it.

                John will say his name a few times, wave a hand in front of his face. One time he came over and tapped Blaine’s knee. It freaked Blaine out and took him out of his head too quickly, and he stared up at John in question, heart beating out of his chest and eyes blown wide in alarm.

                “Where do you go?” John asked as he knelt in front of Blaine. His voice was tinged with kindness and confusion and desperation.

                “I’m sorry,” Blaine deflected.

                On those days that Paul takes him, Blaine really does come up with plans to run away again, the phantom touch on his shoulder present throughout the whole therapy session. But then Blaine will leave the room and be greeted by Paul, and Paul’s hand will once again take its rightful place on Blaine’s shoulder, squeezing around his neck as they walk back out to the parking lot.

                And Blaine will remember

                                                                                                               _as they drive back to Paul’s house_

                why he can’t run away

                                                                                                              _and Paul will take him upstairs to his bedroom_

because there is absolutely no way

                                                                                                             _as Paul slowly undresses Blaine, almost reverently_

that he will ever be able to leave this hell

                                                                                                           _and sometimes Paul will whisper his love into Blaine’s_

_ear, and Blaine will try hard not to cry as he just sits and_

_waits for Paul to be done so he can make his way to the_

_bathroom and dry heave into the toilet._

* * *

 

                After coming home from a long month battling villains, Kid Chronic is greeted with a video call from the Soul Crusher.

                Kid Chronic receives the video call while sitting in his dilapidated house.

                “I’m coming after you,” the Soul Crusher grunts. “You won’t know when, and you won’t know where. But it’s not just me anymore. I will send my goons out for you, too. Beware!”

                The reason why Kid Chronic lives in a house that’s falling to the ground is because when he lived in the mansion, the Soul Crusher found him and burnt it to the ground. So Kid Chronic moved to a new place.

                The Soul Crusher found him again.

                Since then Kid Chronic has moved countless times. He tends to find abandoned buildings and houses to hide out in instead of nicer places. It’s easier to hide when there’s no record of where you live. It’s also easier to move when there’s nothing holding you down. No memories or pictures to keep him there.

                Kid Chronic gets the message and immediately scouts the area. He checks out the land surrounding the house he’s staying at. He scours the town and looks for booby traps and hidden cameras. He turns on the police radio that he stole and listens to see if there have been any reports of ugly grey monsters wreaking havoc on local towns.

                He finds none, which is good. He guesses.

                Kid Chronic would rather have the Soul Crusher come get him and demand a fight. He’d rather be attacked than warned an attack is coming.

                Now he’s sitting on his haunches wearily looking behind his shoulder everywhere he goes. Because Kid Chronic _knows_ an attack is coming. He just doesn’t know when.

                And this calm before the storm is even more terrifying than any monster could ever be.

* * *

                John is young. Or, he’s at least the youngest person who works there, from what Blaine’s seen. The first time they met John told Blaine that he was twenty-nine and he went to school to learn how to help kids.

                “It’s my first time doing this,” John said casually, smiling at Blaine. “So maybe we can work together.”

                Blaine sat there and stared at the bookcase behind John.

                John also doesn’t believe in medicating people. He once told Blaine that he only ever relies on medication as a last ditch effort—if the patient poses a harm to himself or to others. He says he doesn’t think Blaine does pose a threat, so to not worry about being dosed up silly.

                Yeah, as if that’s Blaine’s biggest worry.

                “It’s called talk therapy,” John said during the first meeting. “We just talk. About things that are hard or problems you’re having. And I can help you work through them. Together, we can make sense of everything.”

                Blaine doesn’t believe him.

                A year later Blaine _still_ doesn’t believe him, because his life is fucked up and things just start getting worse, and if Blaine thought he hated his six year old self, then he clearly didn’t know what hate was.

                Because the way he feels now is so much worse.

                He’s built a rapport with John the past year. And while Blaine never tells John why he ran away, he does use John for help.

                “I want to take an art class,” he told John one day out of the blue. “But I don’t know if my parents will let me.”

                Because taking an art class might mean having to quit sports. Blaine doesn’t like sports.

                Paul is still his baseball coach.

                John talks Blaine through all the different scenarios that could happen if Blaine talks to his parents. They role play. They work out how Blaine would react to each possible response.

                And then Blaine asks his parents.

                Who readily agree and sign Blaine up for the first art class Blaine tells them about.

                Turns out he can go to that art class _and_ still play baseball. Lucky him.

                John doesn’t let go of Blaine’s love of art, and instead he starts asking Blaine what he likes to draw.

                “Comics,” Blaine says. “I draw comics.”

                John convinces Blaine to bring in some of his comics, and they spend a lot of sessions after that sitting at a table looking at the stories and the drawings and talking about them. It’s the most animated that Blaine’s ever been in therapy. He actually starts _liking_ therapy. He’s never shown his comics to anyone before, and John seems totally into them—always asking questions about the villains and the superpowers that everyone has.

                _And he actually listens when Blaine talks_. Then he asks more questions.

                Blaine never brings the comics when Paul drives him. But he’ll sit in his therapy session and tell John he forgot them at home. John will occasionally nudge him into talking, asking about the latest Kid Chronic debacle. Sometimes Blaine doesn’t have it in him to talk about it. Other times he’ll sit at the table with John and sketch out ideas for later. He never brings them home though, instead telling John to hold onto them.

                “I’ll get them next time,” he’ll say, standing up and getting ready to leave.

                “Blaine,” John stops him this time before he reaches the door.

                Blaine turns around and looks at John, not sure what he wants. Their session is over.

                “When you leave, is that where you go?” John nods to the sketched out comic on the table.

                Blaine nods.

* * *

 

                Paul hates when Blaine closes his eyes, when he crumples them up hard and quick and his nose scrunches up. When he turns his head to the side instead of looking at Paul.

                “It looks like pain,” he’ll say, stroking his palm on the side of Blaine’s face.

                Sometimes he gets angry and he’ll yell and tell Blaine to open his goddamn eyes.

                “You make it seem like it hurts!” He’ll yell. “Our love doesn’t hurt.”

                Then he’ll move hard—or soft—and tell Blaine how much he loves him. Or how he’s never going to let Blaine go. How Blaine’s lucky to have him in his life.

                How _he’s_ lucky to have Blaine in his life.

                Sometimes he’ll kiss Blaine’s neck and his collarbone, make his way down to Blaine’s naval and further. Other times he doesn’t even kiss Blaine, and he’ll grunt loud and move fast. He’ll make it hurt so Blaine can never forget.

                “I never want you to forget.”

                Blaine used to cry, but Paul trained him out of it. Plus, after a while you just get used to it. It always hurts. Even if it doesn’t leave a mark, even if he doesn’t bleed— _it always hurts._

                But Paul hates it when Blaine closes his eyes, so he started keeping them open.

                When he was seven and eight—before he had Kid Chronic to keep him company—he’d stare at the ceiling or the wall, the kitchen appliances or the TV that was turned off. He’d look anywhere but at Paul and he’d keep his eyes open until they glazed over and he could forget about everything going on. He could numb himself.

                When he found Kid Chronic it was better, because it was so much easier to numb himself when he could think about something else. When he could focus his mind on something.

                When he leaves John’s office that day and Paul takes him back to his own place and leads him upstairs

                                                                                                                                 _Kid Chronic gets a message from a little girl_

                and sits him on the bed and tells Blaine how much he loves him

                                                                                                                                 _and she’s asking for help because her parents disappeared_

and Blaine responds, “I love you, too,”

                                                                                                                                 _Kid Chronic rushes to Abigail and finds her a safe place to stay_

                before kissing Paul softly on the lips.

_and then he goes out searching for her parents._

He lets Paul take off his shirt and then he

                                                                                                                                  _They were taken by a monster, Kid Chronic finds out._

                helps take off Paul’s pants before lying down on the bed

                                                                                                                                    _A monster who steals nice parents from nice kids._

                And leaving.

                                                                                                                                    _Kid Chronic vows to find that monster and defeat it._

                “When you leave, is that where you go?” John asks.

                “But why?” He asks, again and again at almost every session.

                And Blaine’s only response is, “I have to save people from the bad guys.”

* * *

 

                Things are awkward when he comes home from Columbus.

                His mom bursts into tears at random intervals, and his father will find any excuse to hug him or squeeze his shoulders or pat his back—anything to make sure that Blaine is real and there and tangible.

                Sometimes when Blaine stays up late he can hear his parents crying in their room. He tries to hug them more often. He reminds them that he won’t do it again. And when they grasp him tight and hold his close and beg— _beg_ for the reason why he left in the first place, Blaine’s eyes go glassy and he floats away.

                It’s almost stifling, being home now, because someone is always watching over him. He once went to go outside and read on their hammock, and when his dad saw him walk out the backdoor without announcing his leave, his father freaked and ran after Blaine.

                “I’m just going to read,” Blaine says, holding up the fantasy novel he brought with him.

                “Oh,” his father says, face flushed and eyes darting back and forth from their backyard and Blaine. “Okay. Yeah. You do that.”

                Blaine took his place on the hammock, and five minutes later his father walked outside in shorts and a ratty t-shirt.

                “I have some yard work I have to get done,” he explains.

                Blaine’s never felt so smothered.

                But his parents aren’t all bad. They both take off of work for a few days right after Blaine got home—on top of the two weeks they didn’t go to work when he was missing (Blaine still feels guilty about that). When his dad goes back to work his mother stays. She spends two weeks with Blaine before her boss tells her that she has to start coming back to the office.

                She then cries to Blaine and apologizes for having to leave him.

                “It’s okay, mom,” Blaine says, awkwardly rubbing her hand where she’s grasping onto him. “I don’t expect you to stay home with me all summer.”

                “We think it would be best if you didn’t go to camp, Blaine,” his dad says, standing behind his mom.

                Camp is already over two weeks in, and Blaine hasn’t gone yet. He’s also not particularly upset at the probability of skipping the rest of it either.

                “Okay,” he responds.

                An entire summer in his house where he can work on his comics? Perfect.

                “Paul said he can stay with you most of the time. You two can hang out and go to, to the city,” his father stumbles, not wanting to recall memories from when Blaine went there on his own. “See museums. Go to baseball games.”

                Blaine blanches.

                “But I want to go to camp! I don’t want to stay home with Paul.”

                “Blaine, honey,” his mother says. “We just think it would be best for you to stay here, where we can keep an eye on you.”

                “I’m not gonna run away again!” Blaine promises, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He pulls his hand out of his mother’s grasp and moves all the way back on his bed until he hits the wall. “I want to go to camp! I want to see my friends!”

                It’s a sore spot for his parents, and Blaine knows it.

                He brings it up to John at that week’s session because he thinks John might be the only person that can help him. He knows that everything he and John talk about stays between him and John. But every so often they’ll have a family session, and after he hears that John is in full support of Blaine going to camp, Blaine _begs_ for a family session.

                They schedule it for a week later, and Blaine spends the week up to it at Paul’s house while his parents are at work. Nothing happens though, and Blaine isn’t sure if that’s good or bad.

                John starts the meeting by having Blaine explain to his parents why he wants to go back to camp; he doesn’t want to stay home all summer, he wants to see his friends, he wants to be around people and go swimming and play games—he wants to feel normal again and not like he has to be hidden away from everyone at Paul’s house.

                Then his parents explain their reservations, and at the end John gives his two cents.

                “I think it will be beneficial for Blaine to be at camp with kids his own age. The socialization aspect is incredibly important. Particularly at this point in his life.”

                His parents cry a bit and tell Blaine they’ll send him to camp, and then they all hug.

                It’s a big victory for Blaine, spending his summer at camp. It’s not always fun and he doesn’t particularly enjoy it. But every day he makes sure to come home from camp with a smile on his face and stories to tell his family.

* * *

 

                He does see Paul a lot that summer. But nothing really _happens_.

                Aside from light grazes that could be misconstrued as friendly touches, nothing happens. Even when Blaine spends a night at Paul’s that summer—the only night he spends there that summer—nothing happens. They don’t even share a bed. Paul gives him a light kiss on the lips and leaves Blaine in the guest room, promising to make him breakfast the next morning. Blaine doesn’t sleep that night, both out of fear that something might happen and confusion as to why something _didn’t_.

                Later in the summer, Paul takes Blaine and his family to his lake house for a week. He periodically has barbecues at his home and takes Blaine to museums in the city. He buys Blaine candy and practices baseball with him at the field. But nothing _happens_.

                Blaine hates it. He feels like he’s six again, except this time he doesn’t trust Paul’s intentions. He knows it won’t last long, and it scares him that he doesn’t know when it’s coming. When it’s going to happen again.

                He’s jumpy that whole summer. Every time Paul suggests going somewhere just the two of them, Blaine has to stop himself from having a panic attack.

                That whole summer, up until school starts, Blaine is on edge.

                And when it does happen it’s worse than ever.

                Because a small part of Blaine really hoped that it would never happen again.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be another part that follows a fourteen year old Blaine. It's already mostly planned out.
> 
>  
> 
> If you have any questions or concerns or want to talk about the fic or anything else, my askbox is always open, and anon is always enabled.


End file.
